Unending Outing

 

The wrinkled and icy hands

Withered with listless skin

Unfiled nails with cuticles

Are these those sweet-smelling hands?

 

Slender fingers of plump hands

Manicured with nail paints

Rose scented adorned with trinkets

Are these those aged hands?

 

Seventeen-year-old hands

Twined in mine on strolls

 Fragrant flirting on dreamy days

Poured out rosy cologne on mine

 

Mellowed and cold with oldness

Folded with fading worries

 I will hold hands more tight

Timeless treasures to treat

 

 

 

 


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